The Last Request of Albus Dumbledore
by The Half Mad Muggle
Summary: Albus Dumbledore is dead. His will details the distribution of his belongings and the Hogwarts Headship - but it does not include his final request - that Severus Snape guide, mentor and protect Harry Potter... AU, HBP, an experiment... ABANDONED
1. Chapter 1

**The Last Request of Albus Dumbledor****e**

_Hello everyone - updates will resume tomorrow morning, in the schedule that is in my profile. My apologies for the delay - I've had a tough week, but it's all better now - this is the start of something I am running mainly as an experiment. As many of you are aware I am working on 'The Phoenix Guardian' which is primarily a Snape and Harry project - but I have little experience writing the characters. So, this is an opportunity for me to write and you to give advice on characterisation and similar topics._

_Oh, and to make things very different indeed, I have - ah - done the unthinkable for SS19 and killed someone off. In the first chapter…_

_~ SS19_

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><p>Prologue: Falling Asleep<p>

A hooded figure stormed into the dark and quiet Entrance Hall, wet boots almost slipping on the marble tiles. He swept across the floor, taking the grand staircase two or maybe three steps at a time. He was leaving a trail of rainwater behind him and a dribbling, spotting of blood as the warm red liquid trickled from the superficial wound on his right arm. Something, somewhere, deep inside his chest, called out to him and he answered in a verbal murmur, "I'm coming." He hurtled along the first floor corridor and rounded the corner, through the doorway to meet the moving staircases that had already rearranged themselves so he had a direct path to his destination. His muscles were aching from his fast-paced sprint across the expansive grounds and his lungs felt tight and he could not steady his breathing because he was anxious and worried and frightened and he could not discipline his emotions - he just had to get to him - he skidded to an undignified halt beside the two stone gargoyles, opened his mouth to speak the password he did not consciously know, but they were already stepping aside to allow him entrance. He charged up the spiral staircase, catching himself before he fell, opening the door and entering the office that was so familiar to him, pulling his hood back, "Headmaster, I'm here…" His sentence broke as his eyes fell on Albus Dumbledore, slumped in his chair so he was doubled over and his face was obscured by his desk. He could hear hitched breathing and some sort of soft, guttural moaning. "Headmaster…" He steadied himself and crossed between the sofa and the low coffee table, and knelt behind the desk, looking into Albus' face, "It's me, I'm here."

At his soft words, Albus looked up and raised his head, "Severus."

Severus stared into his mentor's face and felt horror drown his stomach. Albus was pale - no, grey and colourless - his blue eyes pained and tired and almost glassy, lips thin and bloodied from where he had bitten either his lip or his tongue - or maybe both - and the crusting of a white substance in his beard suggested he had recently thrown up. Grasping both of Albus' arms, Severus could feel trembling and sweat even beneath the many layers of robes and other flamboyant material. It was only then that he noticed Albus' hand — the fingers blackened like those of a corpse, the nails shocking white against the skin below and Severus couldn't stand to stare at the hand any longer - how many times had those same fingers brushed against his cheek or tucked his hair back behind his ears or helped to heal invisible wounds - "You're far too hot, Headmaster, I need to lie you down and remove some of these robes - why must you always insist on wearing so many layers?" He was trying to be lighthearted so he could deny the inevitable, "Come, the sofa will do." He half carried, half dragged, Albus to the couch and laid him down, easily undoing the robes that constricted Albus' breathing. He recolied when he realised that it was not just Albus' hand that was cursed - it was his entire arm and right side. Severus pressed his cool hand to Albus' damp chest, feeling the Headmaster's heart pound frantically inside his ribcage, "Albus - what did you do?"

Seemingly roused by Severus' voice, Albus shifted position, "The ring."

Severus whirled from Albus to look at his desk. His eyes fell on the discarded ring, the silver band and black angular stone set in its confines. Drawing his wand, he approached it warily, reaching out and touching the silver band briefly. Dark Magic lanced along his nerves, his Dark Mark hissed angrily on his left arm and he felt an almost heady rush of power - he had always been particularly susceptible to Dark Magic - "Did you put it on?" He demanded of Dumbledore when his vision cleared, "Albus, how could you be so foolish?"

"Sorely tempted." Albus gasped, "I can't…" His head lolled to one side and Severus was by him in less than a moment, "Albus, you need to fight this. How long did you have the ring on your finger?" He was aware that his voice was trembling violently - this was not good - it was a deadly curse contained in that ring. Mortal.

"A minute, perhaps?" Albus faltered and Severus saw blood trickle from the corner of his mentor's mouth. It jolted him back into action - "I'll find something." He was skilled at this - Defence - he could find something that would save his mentor. He rummaged through the Potions cabinet next to Albus' Penseive, clinking the bottles together in his haste as he hunted for those labelled in his own spidery handwriting. "Where are my potions?" He shouted at the cabinet, dropping two vials and hearing them shatter.

"…Severus…"

He had found his collection, "Life-sustaining - there must be something - something rare - pixie tears - or something inherently good - unicorn blood, willingly given - all I need is more time - "

"…My boy…"

Severus pulled a bottle out with an only half stifled cry of triumph - "This should do just fine." He turned back to Albus, pulling the stopper from the phial, "Drink this." Albus' hands were shaking viently and he was clearly unable to summon any strength, so Severus reached out, opened Albus' mouth and almost forcefully tipped half the pale green liquid into Albus' mouth. Albus coughed and spluttered and seemed to be unable to swallow, "Damn it, Albus - forgive me - " He leaned forward and blocked both of Albus' nostrils until the other swallowed. Severus splashed the rest of the potion onto Albus' exposed chest, and involuntarily swept his hand down Albus' cheek, "I'll fix this…" He swore, "I just need my book." He looked up at the bookshelves, the one ledge set aside for him with his name carved into the wood, his collection of books - he walked toward it, not knowing or evening noticing that a hand reached out to take his but could not reach, "I can't see it." He was close to panicking, "I always have it here - I was reading it last year - did I take it to Manchester?" Please say he had not taken it to Spinner's End…

"Severus." Albus' voice had gained some strength, "You know…"

Still with his back to Albus, every muscle in Severus' body seemed to stiffen or tense, "Don't say it."

"It's too late. You know that. There's nothing you can do."

There was some sort of noise from Severus, before he turned to face Albus. His face was suddenly pale and he was shaking. A frown crossed his forehead, creating a crease between his eyebrows, and although his arms were folded, he seemed to be unable to control his hands. His fingers were grasping at his sleeves, clenching and twisting until the knuckles were beyond white. He swallowed. "What - what do you want me to do?"

Albus watched him. "Top drawer. There's an envelope. I need a quill too." The sentences were short and broken by staggered breathing and stuttering breaths. Severus nodded once and opened the drawer in Albus' desk to withdraw the blank envelope. He looked inside and unfolded the only piece of parchment. He read the title, eyes latching onto only three words - 'will', 'final' and 'testament'. He nearly dropped the sheet as something not far from a sob forced itself from his lips, "No…"

"Quickly. Severus."

He pulled the quill from the ink well and knelt beside Albus, helping him to grasp the nib and precariously sign a poor substitute of his normally rather ornate signature along the line at the bottom of the sheet. The quill dropped from his fingers and Severus pulled the parchment away, throwing it aside as if it burned him, trying to pretend they were not tears that were burning his eyes. He stayed beside Albus, and their eyes locked, "Let me fight for you, Headmaster. Let me try - please - the war - they need you - I need - " He broke off, "I…"

"No. There is noting. You and I both know that." Albus frowned but reached out and carefully pulled Severus closer to him so they were mere inches apart, "Severus. I need a…last request."

"Anything," Severus interrupted, "I'll do anything for you, you know that, but can't we just —"

"Listen to me." Albus took in a deep breath. "Harry enters his sixth year. He will need you. Severus. Promise me this. Promise me you will help him. Guide him. Protect him. Please." Their eyes would not leave each other's, "Promise me."

No matter how much he hated Potter, in that moment he would have done anything for Albus, would have denied him nothing, "I will."

Albus smiled, his healthy hand stroking down Severus; cheek and along his jawline. Severus leaned into the touch. "Thank you. Severus."

He was willing to beg Albus to stay, "Take me instead. I'll give you my strength - don't give in - not now - please, let me save you, I know the spell - let me do it."

Albus pressed one finger to Severus' lips, hushing him, "Stop." He let his hand fall back to where Severus' rested on his chest. "Win the war. You need to win the war."

Something was stopping him from speaking or replying. He was trying to formulate the words but his mind seemed to have slowed and nothing would come to him; there was a lump in his throat and a terrible pain in his chest and his eyes were flooded as he stared at Albus and he wanted to tell him but he could not speak. There was so much he wanted to tell him….

"Severus." Albus whispered. He forced their fingers to interlink and Severus clung to him tightly as if it would keep Albus in his world a mere moment longer, "I know, my boy. I know."

But how could Albus even begin to understand or know how Severus felt about him? The respect, the gratitude, the safety, the relief, the happiness, the affection, the love….

"Because. It's mutual. All of it. Never forget that." His fingers were beginning to slacken in Severus'. "Just like…falling asleep."

"Albus…" Severus whispered his name but his hand simply dropped away from Severus' and Albus Dumbledore moved no more. Severus stared at him and those glassy, unfocused blue eyes and one hand carefully brushed wayward strands of grey hair back so they were not in the way of that almost serene face. He let his fingers hover once more over Albus' heart and waited for many moments before logic forced him to admit there was no longer any sign of life and that his mentor had moved onto a different plane. He closed Albus' eyes with his hands and refastened his robes so it seemed the Headmaster was simply sleeping. He would have given anything, everything, his very soul, just to have one more minute with him.

But he simply sat beside Albus, unable to move, just sitting, while the birds swooped outside the window and the portraits started to whisper and silent tears tracked down his cheeks.

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><p><em>I anxiously await your comments ~ SS19.<em>


	2. Chapter 2

**The Last Request of Albus Dumbledore**

_Hello everyone - my apologies for the delay - I know I am behind but I am a little busy at the moment and the muse *kicks muse* has run away to join the circus. Anyway - here is the next offering of this little piece, which is actually harder to write than if I had killed Severus off._

_*sighs* Must be because I have so much experience._

_Dedicated to blossoming art - who I am concocting something special for, but because of my time constraints you may have to wait!_

_~ SS19_

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><p><strong>Chapter One - The News Breaks<strong>

_HOGWARTS HEADMASTER FOUND DEAD_

_Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Albus Dumbledore was found dead yesterday morning by a member of the teaching staff at Hogwarts School. Although the cause of death is as yet unconfirmed, the Daily Prophet has learned that the probable cause is most likely the battle in the Department of Mysteries, which took place earlier this year. Professor Dumbledore, famed for his defeat of the Dark Wizard Grindlewald more than fifty years ago, was well-known for his magical prowess and his determination to defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall was unavailable to comment on Dumbledore's death, and his successor of the Headship has yet to be revealed. Tributes have been pouring in from across the Wizarding World for Dumbledore, and his funeral is expected to take place later this week at Hogwarts._

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><p>The Burrow was silent, and that in itself was a strange thing. The many floors of bedrooms and staircases, haphazardly piled on top of each other, were usually bustling with noise and laughter and chatter, and magical enchantments that animated even the most mundane and simple of objects. Today, however, the knitting needles lay motionless, and the plates were stacked in dirty piles on the side of the sink, and even the clock had stopped chiming. The rooms were dark, curtains open yet very little natural light seeming to penetrate the only occupied room in the house, the dining room. There was food on the plates and pumpkin juice in the glasses and post unopened on the rectangular table, but not one of the people sat around the table had been willing to move - to talk - to break the silence that had fallen.<p>

Harry Potter sat, the front page of the Daily Prophet staring up at him, seemingly unable to breathe. The front page, black headline scrawling across the top and confirming his worst fears, was dominated by a large photograph of Albus Dumbledore giving a speech at Hogwarts to members of staff, students and Ministry officials, before Harry's time. The photograph, in full yet somewhat dusty colour, showed him wearing cyan robes and stood behind his lectern, hands outstretched as he thanked those for attending with a smile and a flamboyant bow. He seemed so happy and youthful and powerful and controlled - and now - and Harry did not know how to feel, so he did not even allow his emotions to show.

Beside him, one hand clamped to her mouth, was one of his two best friends - Hermione Granger - and there were silent tears running down her cheeks as she stared ahead of herself, unable to read the article despite her natural desire to devour the written word - for no matter what words they had chosen, she knew they would have not done justice to the wise Headmaster of Hogwarts, who had been so intelligent and so astute, so determined to do good, one of her idols, someone she had studied since she had been eight years old and had found out about magic - someone she had been honoured to share a building with, because he had been exactly what she wanted to be. She had been honoured to be able to learn from him.

Ron Weasley had closed one hand around Hermione's elbow when they had first read the headline to comfort her, and found himself unable to pull that hand away. He needed the comfort too - Dumbledore had always seen something in him, had rewarded him with fifty points in his first year, and since then the older Headmaster had seen something worthy in the youngest Weasley boy, having seen all of his family go through Hogwarts and yet never seeing him as one of them - Dumbledore had always seen him as his own person. Ron owed the life of his two best friends to that man, especially Harry, and although he had resented the connection that his best friend and the most powerful wizard of all time had shared, he had understood the need for it too - and he wished that Dumbledore was still there to protect Harry.

Arthur Weasley could feel his wife shaking in his arms, both of her hands hiding her face - he could feel his own pain in his chest as he contemplated what exactly would happen now - what could possibly happen? Their leader was gone, and he suddenly felt exposed - Professor Dumbledore had always protected Molly, him and his family - and Hogwarts had been a safe haven simply because of his presence - but now, would the school be open to attack? How could they continue to fight without Dumbledore? Dumbledore had taught Molly and he understood why she was so devastated - Dumbledore had been, quite simply, a light in the dark world that they inhabited - and now that light had been extinguished. But Arthur could not take his eyes off Harry, sat at the table, white and emotionless and blank and thin, and he knew that this would not be bearable for the younger man - and Harry simply pushed away from the table and walked away.

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><p>The Hogwarts staffroom was filled with people, and almost every chair was taken, but there was no sound - just quiet. The quiet of people who do not know what to say, the quiet of people who do not want to speak, because it might confirm something, the quiet of people who have lost someone who means so much to them and they do not even know how - or why. They need to talk, though, they need to discuss what has happened, what might happen, what should happen - the future of the school - what they should tell the students - what they should tell the parents - what they should tell the Daily Prophet and the journalists demanding a story.<p>

"You know why we are here, and I do wish it was under better circumstances."

Minerva McGonagall stood and took her place in the centre of the staffroom, forcing her knees not to shake and wishing her eyes were not quite so red - but she had cried once again when she had seen the headline of the Prophet, even though it had been she who had discovered Albus twenty-four hours before, lying as if sleeping under a blanket on his sofa, eyes closed and face relaxed. One hand was clenched, as if he had been holding onto something - but the room was quiet and the portraits were gone. She had gone through many emotions there and then - shock, horror, terror, denial and then the state she was in now - devastated acceptance of the fact her dearest and oldest friend was gone, and now she was expected to support everyone else through this difficult time, even when she simply wanted to lock herself away with the memories of the last fifty years and try to understand what she was supposed to do now.

"I do not know who will be succeeding Albus as Headmaster, as the will has not been yet. However, it will be done tomorrow."

Pomona Sprout was twisting her handkerchief between her fingers, watching her friend and colleague attempting to sound calm and composed, and surprised at just how strong Minerva seemed. Pomona, herself, was struggling - the idea of the Headmaster being dead and gone was hard for her to understand - as the Head of Hufflepuff House, she had such a good relationship with the Headmaster, and had always seen him as a steadfast man who was able to protect all of his students, able to inspire respect, able to make all of them feel safe - and that was something what would never change.

"Poppy has determined that it was a piece of Dark Magic - he would not have been able to survive - but it would be been quick, and I suppose that should be some comfort to us all. Ministry officials will be visiting this afternoon to examine his office, as unhappy as I am about it."

Filius Flitwick was watching his colleagues carefully, nearly swallowed up in his large armchair. As one of the few male members of staff, he was supposed to seem strong, he supposed - and he was not one for emotions, because Ravenclaws found many of them unnecessary - but that did not mean he was not privately grieving for the loss of Albus Dumbledore - one of the most talented Charms scholars Filius had met, and an incredibly powerful wizard beside that, and Filius had learnt so much from him - had been allowed to teach beside him - and now he was worried about the uncertainty of the future and what would happen after this - how could Hogwarts survive without Albus Dumbledore, who had been apparently killed from inside Hogwarts. Why would anyone return here?

"Of course, we have to discuss the matter of the - funeral, but that will wait until all of us our present." Her eyes wandered to the only empty chair, the dark leather with mahogany legs, next to the fireplace.

"Where is he, Minerva?"

"I don't know."

"Does he know?"

"He knows."

"What will happen to him?"

That is a question she cannot even think how to answer - because with Albus Dumbledore gone, how could their final member of staff survive? How would he be protected from those that threatened him, the nightmares that the teachers saw only the consequences of, and Albus had only ever been allowed to heal.

What would happen to him?

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><p>12 Grimmauld Place had been quiet since the death of its owner, that summer - but now an even more unnatural silence had settled, and it was that which had infiltrated into the hearts of those who remained, gathered, brought together by terrible news and mourning. The news that their leader, their commander, their King, had fallen, was dead, taken away, and now they had to decide how they would regroup, what they would do next, whether they would fight back or simply accept defeat - because none of them knew if they could continue to fight now. Would they even be able to?<p>

Alastor Moody was glaring at the window, as if the curtains had committed some great sin, or perhaps they were a Death-Eater awaiting trial - either way, the glare was terrible - fuelled by anger and hate and injustice. How could Albus Dumbledore be dead? He had so much respect for the older wizard, a wizard who was able to calm him, and had taken Alastor into his counsel so many times, and Alastor had learnt so much from him - the power of mercy, the power of love, and their friendship had been warm and enduring and mutual. Albus Dumbledore had been such a great wizard - to be killed so simply, so easily, by Voldemort - it was unfair and Alastor hated the world for allowing it to happen - and he hated himself for allowing someone else, someone else he cared about, to be stolen by that darkness once more.

The Ministry would be in turmoil - this, Kingsley Shacklebolt knew well. This was a strike at the heart of all that was good in the world, no matter what some Ministers thought of the eccentric Albus Dumbledore, they all knew that he had symbolism - he was a symbol of protection and the fight against You-Know-Who and a herald for those who did not wish to give into the darkness. The death of him would shatter morale and wills more than any attack by You-Know-Who could ever achieve.

Remus Lupin was sat nearby, staring into nothingness. There was something knotting uncomfortably inside his stomach - he had only just started to accept the death of Sirius Black - and now this had happened. He had always been particularly devoted to the wise Headmaster of Hogwarts because Albus had been kind to him, Albus had given a chance and a home at Hogwarts to teach - a position in the Order - even though he knew, all the while, that Remus was a werewolf. He owed his life to Dumbledore, otherwise he would have been imprisoned or executed by the Ministry by now - and yet - Albus had always bestowed such love on Remus that the other had finally felt worthy of something, despite what happened to him once a month - but he would not cry. He had cried enough tears in his lifetime - there could be no more.

And he was thinking of Harry, and what the poor boy had to be feeling now - he had just lost hid Godfather - how could he cope with the loss of Albus Dumbledore too, the one man who had been such a steady presence in his life?

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><p>There was much laughter and talk in the dining room of Riddle Mansion, accompanied with overflowing goblets of wine and an air that stank of triumph and delight. Candles were lit and they were seated around the table, their Lord at the head, and even he was content to let them talk - they spoke of only one thing - the death of the Muggle-Lover, the death of the other side's leader, the death of the one thing that had been standing in their way - and now they knew that they could not be stopped, and they were hungry for battle - to strike while the other side was weak and suffering and pained.<p>

His father was still incarcerated in Azkaban and his mother was hardly a defence against the Death-Eaters, and although he knew he should have been pleased with this news, Draco Malfoy was struggling. It was not that he did not believe in the cause, and it was not that he was a traitor to his Lord - but this, the death of Dumbledore, made everything so much more real - and he knew now that his master would truly be unstoppable - there would be nothing to stand in his way - and it would begin - the deaths and the fighting and the subjugation of Muggles and Mudbloods. Everything he, as a Malfoy, had been brought up to want and believe in - but everything a boy with a conscience simply could not abide.

Bellatrix was simply delighted by this turn of events, finishing another goblet of wine and shooting a glance at her master, who was contemplating something she could not see - Dumbledore was dead! Sirius Black was dead, killed by her own hand, and she had gained much favour with her master. They were so near to victory now - it tasted like - it tasted like - alcohol - on the back of her tongue, and she continued to drink, and she wondered if perhaps, this time, her master would be in such a good mood, he would be willing to let her be with him much more.

Lord Voldemort allowed himself the smallest of smiles. It did not become him to be overconfident - but he was happy to be arrogant and at least a little smug - for he had managed to destroy Albus Dumbledore, and that was a task that was not undertaken lightly. He did not remember the curse that he had cast on the older wizard, but he did not need to - the meaning was, Dumbledore was dead, his armies would be shattered, and Lord Voldemort would be triumphant. He would take his rightful place as leader of the Wizarding World, and he would finally be able to move - he would kill Harry Potter and he would win. That, alone, was worth a goblet of wine. He swallowed the ruby liquid, even though it reminded him of ash, and returned his gaze to the object of his contemplation. The man with the goblet that was untouched and the dark hair that was mostly hiding his face, the face that was showing tiredness and exhaustion and a hint of something Lord Voldemort could not understand or even identify, and he thought perhaps he should demand to know the reason for such distraction, but tonight he simply did not have the inclination - so he took another sip of his wine and watched as Severus Snape stood, swept from the room in a flurry of black, and the door was closed behind him.

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><p>Harry was sitting in his room at the Burrow, which he shared with Ron. He had looked at the Quidditch posters and their robes in the wardrobe and he had tried to find something to distract himself - but instead he had simply slumped against the wall, knees pulled up to his chest, his arms wrapped around his shins. He wanted to cry, he wanted to scream, he wanted to tear things apart but he felt so empty. He could not move, because moving took too much energy and he did not possess it. First Sirius, and now Dumbledore - why did he have to lose everyone? People became his protectors and then they were threatened and then they died - Dumbledore had been there for six years, twinkling blue eyes and a kindly smile, he had always been a presence in Harry's life, and Harry had truly seen him as a father figure - and now he was gone.<p>

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><p>The door to the staffroom opened and Severus stepped into the warm room, undoing his travelling robe and hanging it on the cloak stand, lingering near the door. He examined his colleagues - gathered around the fire, talking softly amongst themselves. He could see their grief like it was another person in the room, so very tangible, and something inside him snapped, as if the truth had finally fitted into place in his muddled brain. He could not do this. He could not pretend. He turned and left the room again, wanting to cry, wanting to scream and shout and destroy something but also too numb to feel anything. He just could not believe that Albus was gone - leaning against the wall, head lowered, he remembered - he had been in Severus' life for twenty five years with his sherbet lemons and his ill-timed humour and his ability to make Severus feel like he was worth something - gone in a single moment.<p>

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><p>"Harry?" A voice called him from the doorway, "It's Arthur." Arthur peered around the bed at Harry. "Are you all right?"<p>

Harry glanced up at him. "No." He said suddenly.

Arthur came over and sat beside him, "He was a good man. He cared a lot for you. I can imagine how you must be feeling."

"It's just…" Harry paused, his voice trembling, "He was always…he was always…there…"

Arthur put both arms around him and pulled him close so that Harry could finally let go, and cry into his chest.

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><p>"Professor Snape?" Hagrid's booming voice was almost soft as the half-giant neared where Severus was sitting in the corridor. "Are yeh all right?"<p>

"Do I look 'all right', you imbecile?" Severus snapped. He regretted his harsh tone immediately, "Hagrid, I'm so-"

"O'course yeh not all right - silly question." Hagrid sat beside him, "Thought yeh might want to talk?"

Severus glanced across at the half-giant with the kind black eyes, "It's just…" He paused, his voice trembling, "He was always…there."

Hagrid put one arm around him and Severus allowed himself that moment of weakness, needing the warmth and letting the tear fall from his eye as he finally accepted that Albus Dumbledore was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Last Request of Albus Dumbledore**

_My apologies for my absence. In this chapter, we find out what Albus Dumbledore would like to happen next, and of course, the big news - who will gain the Headship of Hogwarts?_

_~ SS19_

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><p><strong>Chapter Three:<strong>

Glancing around the small Hogwarts staffroom, crammed full with people, Severus Snape was pondering the ethics of friendship. He had known Albus Dumbledore almost twenty years, and not once had half of these people been mentioned. In his later years when he had lived side-by-side with the Headmaster for much of his time, he had not met half of these people, and he realised that it was only after death that friendships were shown for what they truly were. The people he did not know were not here out of grief - they were here for greed. What had Albus Dumbledore, rich and famed throughout the Wizarding World, left them in his will, which lay sealed in an envelope on the table before the Ministry of Magic's solicitor who had arrived for the dubious honour of reading it. Seated as far away from the crowd as he could, Severus had chosen an armchair he was not familiar to, but it allowed him to observe what was happening around him. All of the Hogwarts staff were present, and Severus did recognise some members of the Ministry - and seated opposite him was, of course, Harry Potter and his two friends and Arthur Weasley, possibly for support. Severus recognised signs of grief on the Boy-Who-Lived's face, and although he tried to quell it, he did feel a rush of sympathy and pity for the Gryffindor student. He had, after all, only just lost his godfather and Severus, still reeling from the loss of his mentor, understood just how much that could affect someone. He had struggled to come to terms with what had happened himself - losing Albus Dumbledore was unbelievable. Severus shook his head and returned his gaze to his lap. He had had the customary glances, the consoling pats on the shoulder from the other members of staff, and supposed he was meant to feel thankful or grateful for this, but it just reminded him of what had happened when he had attempted to block the memories with Occlumency, or at least a few too many beakers of Fire Whiskey. He just could not get the image out of his head - the voice echoing in his ears…

"Ladies and gentlemen, if I might have your attention. Unfortunately, I would have preferred to meet you under better circumstances - so I feel it is most likely best to get this task over and done with, as painlessly as possible." The solicitor was smartly dressed with hair that seemed slightly greasy to Severus, his face lined with age and his mouth pulled down into what seemed to be a perpetual frown. Severus had come across solicitors before, back when he had been a child after his parents' death and since in the Wizarding World, and he had never found one that he actually _liked_. Having said that, Severus did not like many people - and the one he had liked the most was waiting to be buried. He breathed in steeply and straightened his back as silence fell and all attention turned to the solicitor.

"Clearly, we are gathered here to read the will of the recently deceased Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. I do not know the contents of the will, nor does anyone in this room." The solicitor slit the envelope and pulled out the piece of parchment. Severus remembered pulling the paper from Albus' desk and reading the words that headed the paper, and panicking. He had never felt such panic, as he had realised in that very second that Albus Dumbledore was going to die. He clenched the arm of the chair tighter, watching his knuckles turn white. He really did not want to be here.

"I shall now read the words written here, exactly as they are here on the parchment. This will be verified by an independent source after today." The solicitor - Severus was trying and failing to remember his name - cleared his throat once and spoke softly yet firmly too.

_"I, Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts and generally fantastic wizard, do hereby dictate what will become of my possessions should the unthinkable happen, and I am incapacitated or killed._"

Severus couldn't help but smile - Albus really had been an arrogant bastard.

_"In my one hundred and fifty years, I have never seen a woman hate a wardrobe so much - so, just to spite her, I leave my complete wardrobe to my beloved Minerva McGonagall - she was always threatening me with various scenarios should I continue to wear magenta and yellow together, so I hope she finds some better use for them. Preferably not burning them, Minerva - but joking aside, I also wish to leave her my complete Transfigurations library, including my personal journals which she has been begging to see since she was a student of mine. How was I supposed to know, back then, that the girl who asked more questions than the Asker of Questions himself, would become my deputy and one of my closest friends?"_

Severus hazarded a glance in Minerva's direction, seeing the drawn expression and the way she was blinking rather rapidly. He wanted to smile in her direction, but there was a lump in his throat, and smiling would be difficult.

_"To Harry James Potter, I leave the box in my office with his name on - only he will be able to open it - I hope he will be able to use it, and its contents well. I also ask of him to put one old prejudice aside and accept help from an unlikely source, which will come to him in his hour of need."_

Harry seemed to nod as if he was hearing the words from the revered Headmaster himself - just as Severus was.

_"I have quite a lot of gold, really, much of it I do not want but certainly do deserve - to St Mungo's, to work on their advances into curing de-habilitating curses and illnesses. I admire their work greatly, and hope that this small token will help them to find the solutions they have been searching for."_

A pause as the solicitor swallowed a mouthful of water. _"To Lord -" _He broke off, as Severus sat up. What was Albus doing now? _"To He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, I leave a message, which I am sure will be delivered to him. In this chess match, between you and I, I would suggest that you have won. It was a Dark curse, after all. However, I encourage you to take heed, for the battle is not yet won, and the King has not yet surrendered - for I am no longer the King. You have been a powerful opponent, Tom, but I remind you that you are not as powerful as your enemies, for you know nothing of love and devotion, and that - melodramatic as it sounds - will be your weakness."_

_"And finally, to Severus Tobias Snape. A son to me in all but blood - there can only be one thing for a rightful and honourable heir. My dear boy, I leave you my home - and with that, the Headship of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." _

Intakes of breath from around the room.

_"Now, before you all argue - I remind you that this is my decision to make, and I have my reasons for trusting Severus above all others."_

"I don't want it." Severus interrupted.

"The will is not yet finished." The solicitor continued, _"And you, Severus Snape - don't you dare say you don't want it. Wasn't it only last month you were telling me how much better the school would be if you were in charge, as a Slytherin? Well, I take you up on that challenge. The school is yours, and it is an ancient rite - you cannot get out of it. Checkmate, my boy. Checkmate." _The solicitor stopped. "It's finished. That concludes the handwriting on the parchment - and thus the will."

Severus stood, "Let me see." How could Albus do this to him? How could he put the Dark Lord's advisor and spy for the Order as Headmaster? How could he protect the students with the Dark Mark carved into his arm? He snatched the parchment from the solicitor, expecting it to be some sort of practical joke - yet there, in Albus' neat and narrow handwriting, the words, confirming that he wanted Severus to be Headmaster. He shook his head, "There must be some way out of this - a mistake?" Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the incensed expression on Potter's face but his gaze remained on the only other sane person in the room at that moment.

Minerva looked at him for a long moment, something close to sympathy in her gaze, "Severus. He is right, it is a duty - and when you are offered that duty -"

"But I don't want it - you do - you can have it. I am not in the right position to be Headmaster. I do not have the experience or the…"

"Well, you have been a Head of House for nearly twenty years, Severus - that is plenty of experience." Minerva said gently, "I will still be your deputy. But, it's what Albus wants."

_And Albus always gets what he wants_. Severus left the final sentence unsaid as he turned and exited the room in a flurry of black robes.


	4. Chapter 4

**The Last Request of Albus Dumbledore**

_Oh, how I adore the middle of this story - in fact, I like it a lot. Harry will return in the next chapter. For now, I think we need to get something out of the way. ~SS19_

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><p><strong>Chapter Four: Conversations with a Dead Man<strong>

Severus Snape slammed the door to his office and was particularly pleased with the resounding crashing noise that echoed throughout the small room. Without so much as a glance at his desk, he threw himself into his arm chair, folded his arms and closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath to calm his raging heart and his slightly unsettled stomach. What was Dumbledore thinking, making him Headmaster? Did he realise what a compromising position this place him in? He had already asked that Severus look after and protect Harry Potter, which Severus had agreed to do as it was a last request - but when the Dark Lord found out that Severus was Headmaster, and he would find out, that would mean Voldemort would use the position to let Death-Eaters into the school. Steepling his fingers, he rested his chin on top and tried to find the positive outcome in this situation.

"I know what you are thinking, Severus. You need to trust me."

Severus turned his head and glanced in the direction of the portrait, which had now gained a new member. The long dead Potions' Master did not seem to be particularly pleased at sharing his frame with Albus Dumbledore, who was watching Severus. "Trust you, Albus? That is difficult. May I ask what madness possessed you when you decided that I would be an excellent successor to you?"

Albus considered, "It was not madness, Severus. It has been something I have had planned for quite some time now. You are the only person who can do this, now. You are the only person I trust enough to place in this position." He could tell that Severus was not convinced. "Severus. Listen to me, now. I know you are thinking that I am insane - but understand that, if you are in this position, you can protect the students from Voldemort. Voldemort will see my death as a benefit to his conquest, of course. It will make him arrogant - and I imagine the Ministry will be his next target. If he was to take the Ministry, he would then take Hogwarts - and I would have no control. By placing you as Head now, not only do I cement your position in his circle, but I also know that the castle and most importantly its students are in the most noble and honourable of hands - yours. I know that you cannot be corrupted Severus. You have the bravery and the courage and the resources to be the most dangerous thereat to Lord Voldemort - and I need you here."

Severus was silent. Albus continued, "Severus - when I told you that I trust you, I do. I meant every word. What I wrote in my will - about you - that is also true. You are incredibly important to me and you deserve to be rewarded - with Minerva by your side I know that Hogwarts will be safe. That was my main concern." He crossed to the very front of the portrait, "You are also my greatest weapon."

"I thought that was Potter." Severus said bitterly.

"No. Harry has much left to learn and I know that you will guide him on that path. Now, I must rely solely on you - you have always been my most valuable resource, in more ways than one." Albus reasoned softly, "Severus, this is just a chess game. I may have fallen, but I have a replacement in you - a much more powerful and intelligent replacement, someone whom I could never hope to be. Don't try and suggest otherwise - " He voiced over Severus' interruption, "You are much wiser than I, Severus - and not so easily led by your heart. Now all you need to do is find the strength to face Voldemort. I know you have that strength and that you can do this, that you can achieve the unthinkable, because I have seen you do much braver things. Please, will you trust me this one final time?"

"Why have you asked Horace Slughorn to return?" Severus asked suddenly. "I found the letter in your office." He offered by way of explanation to Albus' questioning look. Albus paused before responding, "Because this year I planned to make you Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. I still wish you to be Defence teacher, as this is what I would class an emergency - and as Headmaster, you can practically do what you so please."

Severus watched him, "Why?"

"Because there is no one else I would have teaching students Defence when they need it the most. I have waited, Severus, because of the curse that lies on that position - I am hoping, though, by the end of this year Voldemort will be defeated, and you will not have to worry about what could happen to you."

"Why did you beg him to return? There are other Potions' Masters, why him?" Severus had been pondering this for some time now. "You are hiding something from me, Albus."

Albus nodded. "Yes, I am. I am hiding information from you."

Severus turned away, "Yet you will still ask me to trust you implicitly. You ask me to blindly follow you to a potential disaster."

"I cannot tell you everything because I do not yet know the answer to everything, Severus. All I can ask is simply that. Trust me. Please." He started to speak again when Severus did not reply to him and he was still staring at Severus' back, "I will be here with you, always - every step of the way - and I will never abandon you. It is something I would not do in life and I certainly will not do in death. Will you look at me, please, Severus?"

Severus returned his gaze to Albus.

"Headmaster Snape, I am now pleading with you because I have nowhere else to turn. I need you, Severus. I need you to take this responsibility and protect those around us. I need you more than I have needed anyone else - without you, Severus, we will leave the fate of this world to chance. Will you help me?"

Severus nodded once. "I will do as you command."

"Thank you, Severus. Will you consider relocating your belongings to your new office?" Albus prompted, but Severus shook his head. "Not until after your - your funeral."


	5. Chapter 5

**The Last Request of Albus Dumbledore**

_I do adore this story. I really do. ~ SS19_

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><p><strong>Chapter Five: A Marble Tomb<strong>

Minerva McGonagall blinked twice and swallowed hard to remove the lump in her throat as she examined her reflection almost critically in the mirror. She was wearing her black hat. She wore this hat only to funerals. The last funeral had been someone she had not known as well as others; she had only gone to support Albus.

Now Albus was the one she would see laid to rest. She turned to her visitor. "I hate this hat."

Severus was sat on Minerva's tartan sofa. He was distant - had been all morning - wearing robes of complete black. His usual stiff white collar was not visible today. If it wasn't for the paleness of his skin, he would have seemed like nothing more than a shadow. She watched him. "How are you feeling?"

Severus glanced toward her. His eyes were tired and sadder than normal. "Numb." That she could understand. She too felt it - cold. It took things longer to process inside her mind, and she found answering questions harder. Shock, at what had happened. She tire to smile at him but the expression was wan. "I know." She felt this need, the maternal urge, to try to comfort Severus - the Severus who had been very close to the Headmaster and was now facing a bleak future alone - the Severus who had been elevated to a position he did not want - "Have you spoken to him?"

"Briefly." Severus answered. "It is almost surreal." He shook his head and twisted his fingers together in his lap. "I do not want to believe it. I feel like it's a dream."

Minerva nodded at that. She understood that. "I know."

Severus stared at her, as if contemplating whether he should speak the next words aloud. He had never been the most forthcoming of people - but Minerva knew too that his very world had been shattered and pieces lay at his feet. "Do you - " He hesitated, "Do you keep expecting him to come into the Great Hall and laugh at us for being so silly?" His voice shook just a little, "I keep thinking I hear his voice - those damned sherbet lemons - winding me up." He looked away and a frown crumpled his forehead, "When does it become real? When does it become - when do we accept that he will never stand in the Great Hall again?"

Minerva crossed to him and sat beside him on her sofa, "These things take time. They hurt - Severus - but in time, the pain starts to fade. You know that."

"He always seemed immortal." This was the part that was bothering Severus the most, she could tell. And she knew why - she had felt it too - Albus, with his bright personality and grace and immature sense of humour, had never seemed old. He had never seemed vulnerable. His presence, in her life and in Severus' life and in all their lives, had been so very influential and so great that to consider him not being there any longer was painful. Unbelievable. "He's still with us in part, Severus."

"Is that how you are coping with this? Platitudes, such as that? Cliches?" Severus sounded almost angry now. Minerva wanted to sooth him, but he had never been one for physical comfort, either. "How else are we supposed to cope, Severus, if not through cliches? How else can we rationalise the fact that both of us are about to head to Albus' funeral." She was surprised she could say the word out loud, and almost regretted it when Severus flinched. But she was practical and pragmatic, and this was her way of dealing with situations that threatened her. She needed Severus' inner strength, now.

They all did.

He reached into his robes and pulled out a piece of parchment, folded many times. "I have to read this." He gave it to her. "I wrote it last night. I don't even particularly like it. But I do not know what else to say. What even is a eulogy? Am I supposed to make some sad speech about how much he meant to all of us, and how powerful he was? Because that will not help any of those listening."

Minerva scoured the scrawling handwriting, understanding the underlying concern in Severus' words. This eulogy was impersonal. She knew, as did others, that Severus had known Albus in a different way to others. Their understanding of each other was much deeper than they could ever hope to achieve with Albus. "You need to say what you are comfortable saying, Severus. Only you can know what you would like to tell us."

Severus took the parchment off her and put it back in his pocket. "I am waiting for someone to tell me what to do."

Minerva half-smiled at this, "Unfortunately, Severus, you need to tell us what to do now - you are in charge."

"I never wanted this." His tone was so vehement that she believed him. "I just want an end to the war."

"I know, Severus. I know. Albus is doing what he thinks is best." She believed that, too. She reached over and straightened the buttons on his cloak. "We're all here for you, Severus - all of us staff are behind you. We'll support you."

He watched her, examining the truth behind her words, before nodding once. "Thank you."

* * *

><p>It was a marble tomb. That was all Severus' confused and muddled brain would process as he clutched the parchment in his sweat-sheened palm and tried to remember how to inhale. The tomb had carvings around the sides, runes and other such magical markings. He found himself trying to understand them, to decipher them, because that stopped him thinking about the body. The body that was cradled so very reverently in Hagrid's arms as the half-giant, audibly crying, made his way through the rows of students, staff and friends and toward the front where the tomb was situated. Severus knew that Albus was under a purple cloak - that had been his personal insistence, after all - but it did not help. It did not create an illusion as he had so desperately hoped - in fact, it drove the truth further into his aching heart.<p>

That there was no life to be had in that body. He clasped his hands tighter together and looked down at his fingernails as Hagrid neared him. He could not bear this - it hurt too much - and he could feel the grief constricting his chest, so tight that it was difficult to breathe. He swallowed the lump in his throat and forced his mind to focus - he would need to speak in a moment, and it would not do to show emotion. He needed to be as impassive as possible - he looked down at the eulogy again, remembering the words - knowing that he could speak these, these simple syllables that carried no emotions and could have been written in a textbooks, these words that were, quite simply, a betrayal of him, Albus, the relationship they shared…

Hagrid had passed him now, and Severus knew that he needed to stand. His knees were locked and he seemed to have forgotten how to make his legs work. Minerva, next to him, pressed one hand briefly to his thigh and the touch woke him. Detachedly watching as Hagrid placed his precious burden into the tomb but not looking at the body, Severus gathered every ounce of strength he was told he possessed, and faced the students and staff. This was his first public appearance as Headmaster of Hogwarts - this sorry task, to talk about his predecessor - the students were morose and silent, watching him. Officials of the Ministry, too - reporters, waiting to see how Severus would treat this situation. He was genuinely nervous and felt slightly ill - he wished Albus could have offered him some - comfort or wisdom - he looked back at his parchment, well aware that he had paused for silence and knowing too that he needed to speak. But he couldn't. He couldn't do this - not to him, and certainly not to Albus.

He owed Albus so much more than platitudes and cliches.

* * *

><p>Harry had only looked up when Snape had stood to face his audience. This was Hogwarts' new Headmaster, and Harry did not think he had been so angry about anything - how had Snape managed to convince Dumbledore to write that? He watched Snape hesitate, recognising the expression on the Potions' Master face but unwilling to believe it. Could it be that Snape was truly grieving for his leader? He had never associated emotion with Snape - and Snape seemed rather scathing of Dumbledore in public. Harry did not think anything could change his Gryffindor heart and mind about the Head of Slytherin - he was probably responsible for this, in some way -<p>

"I do not plan to stand here and talk about Albus Dumbledore the wizard." Snape's soft voice, never much above a murmur yet still loud enough to be heard, penetrated Harry's angry haze of thoughts and he watched the other more closely. His voice sounded like Harry's. Empty. As if something had been stolen from the tone, as if a life had been permanently altered. "You all know him - and it would do him no justice. After all, you need only look at the back of his chocolate frog card to know the basics." Snape continued. "Many of you will only have seen the wizard who leads us all in this fight - the scholar who dedicated his life to magic - the politician who supported the Ministry and helped with their crises - the Headmaster who has successfully led Hogwarts to a new age of outstanding results and achievements. To his friends and colleagues, he was a constant support, a bringer of good humour and in most cases - tooth decay."

Harry heard the laughter amongst the front rows and realised that Dumbledore offered sweets to more than just Harry.

Snape lingered, before continuing, "He was so much more than just that. He was a light in the darkest of times, there to guide and to warm. His perceptions and perspectives were razor sharp, and he could detect even the most subtle of emotions. He never judged anyone - no matter what sins they had committed - everyone was permitted a second chance with Albus Dumbledore, everyone was given that moment to redeem themselves. Some…more than others." He glanced toward the tomb and his sentence faltered. "Albus Dumbledore's familiar was a phoenix. It was chosen because there is no other animal, or creature, in this whole world, that could represent him better. Phoenixes are immortal in the sense that they cannot die - and though the physical manifestation of him may be gone - he lives on in the school - in his staff - and especially in his students."

His gaze moved across the young faces, and Harry stared back. Their eyes met and there was no hatred there - Harry almost thought there could have been understanding. "Headmaster Dumbledore would have given his life for every student here - every child sat before me - he had such great dreams and visions for each of you, and was very proud of you all. That was his greatest strength." Still their gazes were locked. "The ability to see worth, where others did not. The ability to believe -" Snape looked away, "There was something worth saving." He stepped down from the lectern and turned to the tomb, but did not speak. He simply regarded it in silence, before lowering himself back into the chair.

It took Harry two minutes to realise that there were tears on his cheeks and he raised his hand to wipe them away.

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><p>Harry wandered the grounds of Hogwarts for a long while after the funeral, contemplating what he had seen and heard. He was not sure how long he could keep going - first Sirius, and now Dumbledore. Why was it that every paternal figure he had met their own grisly end? He crossed past the Forbidden Forest, avoiding Hagrid's hut, and instead headed toward the lake. It was still uncomfortably warm for the start of September, and his Invisibility Cloak was heavy. But he wanted to be able to think in private - he did not want anyone to find him. As he neared the lake, and the tomb that had been added to the landscape, he saw that he was not alone. A figure, all in black, was watching the tomb, arms folded. It was Snape. Harry knew he should turn back. This was dishonourable, and prying. But something made him stay - something made him draw closer. Snape was talking.<p>

"I hope that I did you justice. In fact, I probably simply inflated your ego slightly more than it already was. But at least it wasn't impersonal. Of course, I couldn't have said what I wanted to say - that would have been too dangerous. I imagine I will have to explain my actual words when the time comes - but until then -" He broke off and rested a hand against the cold marble. "But what would I have said if I had been able to speak my mind, anyway? What could I have possibly said? You did not need me to say it - you knew already. You knew how much you meant to me. You knew how much I needed you. As a result, you will know how much this hurts. I have not lost anyone this close to me in so many years - I had forgotten how - acute the pain is. The thought that you might never come barging into my office without knocking first just to tell me some Hogwarts gossip, the thought that I can never go to your office and demand a rematch of a chess game, the thought that you won't be there to pick me up from the ground when I fall in the Forbidden Forest -"

He broke off, his voice gaining an uncomfortable tremble, and he leaned on the tomb, head resting in his hands. "Tell me what to do next, Headmaster. Tell me how to feel, and how to think - because I do not think I can do this without you."

A flutter of wings and Snape suddenly had company. Fawkes had landed on the tomb next to where Severus was resting, singing a gentle note that warmed Harry's heart and distracted Severus. "Hello, Fawkes. Will you be leaving Hogwarts too?"

Fawkes simply stared at him, and Snape sighed. "You can't answer. You're a phoenix. I'm experiencing insanity, now, talking to a phoenix." He stroked Fawkes' crest gently. "You are so much like him."

Harry suddenly felt terrible. He should not be here, he shuffled backward and rustled the grass - Snape whirled and examined the trees, "Who's there?" He was reaching for his wand, but he could not see Harry - Harry breathed in and stayed still. After a moment, Snape shook his head. "I have to go. Goodbye, Albus." He stalked off in the direction of the castle, leaving Fawkes behind. Harry watched him go, and then turned his attention back to the tomb - to find Fawkes, staring straight at him, with the gaze that was so very familiar - that piercing gaze…

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><p>Pouring himself a neat glass of Firewhiskey - last year's birthday present, if he recalled - Severus settled into his armchair by the fire and tiredly pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache beginning in his temples. He examined the new item in his lap - the Daily Prophet. Unfolding the sheets, he read the headline - before throwing it into the fire. He would not read any further. Instead, he savoured a large mouthful of the whiskey and closed his eyes, listening to the crackling of the fire. He would move to his new office in the morning - tonight, he just wanted to be by himself. He knew why, of course, the reason for this self inflicted solitude. Putting the beaker down, he opened his eyes once more and pulled back his left sleeve. "Come on then." He whispered to his Mark. "I'm waiting."<p>

Two more minutes, breathing in and out and closing his mind to those who had no permission to see - and then - the pain that could only be associated with one thing.

A summon from Lord Voldemort.


	6. Chapter 6

_I apologise for my absence, but I am back for a little bit now! Thank you all for your patience! Updates over the next few days - the Long Road is next! ~ SS19_

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><p><strong>Chapter Five - Twisted Truths<strong>

"Well, well. What have we here?" Lord Voldemort's tone was dangerously sarcastic. "I did not think the Headmaster of Hogwarts would grace us with his presence, yet here you are." He paused, rising from his throne, "I read the Daily Prophet article with great interest, _Headmaster_. Tell me, Headmaster, how does it feel?" He drew his wand, "Your title means nothing here, Headmaster - on your knees before your Lord."

Severus dropped to his knees when commanded, not used to being humiliated in such a way and feeling a flush burn his cheeks as he almost heard the smirks and sniggers from the other Death-Eaters gathered. But he still did not speak - Lord Voldemort was clearly angry, and his rhetorical questions were not to be answered, unless one wanted to lose his life. He kept his head bowed, eyes on the carpet in front of him, remembering the last time he had been tortured here and had coughed blood onto this very material. He was probably kneeling on the stains now.

Voldemort came nearer, "I have read Albus Dumbledore's will, Severus. Oh, and our dear departed spoke so very highly of you - did he not? What was it?" He pushed his wand under Severus' chin and forced their eyes to meet, "Prompt me."

"He wanted me to be Headmaster, my Lord." Severus murmured, not willing to repeat the words of Albus in this company. He kept his eyes on the Dark Lord, who was watching him just as carefully. "But what did he _say _about you, Severus - tell me - I want to hear it from you."

"I believe he referred to me as a son, my Lord." Severus replied, tasting those words and remembering that rush of heady emotion - some sort of pride, and the grief that had clouded his gaze as he had realised that he had looked at Albus in the same way - family - a father -

"Indeed. A son. Which begs the question, of course - why would he hold you in such high esteem?" He did not let Severus answer, "Did you promise him something? Did you pander to his every whim, Severus?" Voldemort crooned softly over the snickers of the other Death-Eaters, "Now, now, my friends - let us not mock Severus - I am sure he has a perfectly good reason -" His voice turned deadly cold, "For why Albus Dumbledore referred to him in such a way."

"My Lord knows that I have served Dumbledore as I would serve you, to carry out my Lord's orders." Severus answered calmly, as if the threat of the Dark Lord did not alarm in the least, as if his heart rate had not increased, as if his stomach was not churning…

"Yes, yes, I know this. You tell me this so often, Severus." Voldemort was impatient now, "In fact, I think I have heard it _too _often. You were probably with Dumbledore when he died." Voldemort turned away with a sharp laugh, "I can imagine you, kneeling at his side, holding him close, begging him to stay - because you cannot do this alone - how could you possibly defeat the Dark Lord without me - why did he have to be the one to be killed - why couldn't Fate have chosen you instead…"

"My Lord is correct."

Silence.

Voldemort repositioned himself to face Severus. "I beg your pardon?"

"I was with Dumbledore when he died. I did kneel at his side, and yes, I did cradle him in my arms. I did beg him to stay, and I did offer myself in his place - and I certainly told him that we could not win the war without him, and that I could not possibly cope. I even gave him a potion."

Voldemort looked down at the kneeling Severus, knuckles clenching around his wand. "You attempted to save him?"

Severus did not flinch. "Dumbledore believes I did."

Voldemort hesitated, processing this information. Severus took that as his cue - he pushed himself back to his feet, "And I am now Headmaster of Hogwarts. I am practically in charge of the Order of the Phoenix. I have complete access to the Ministry of Magic. And yet - it seems - I am also your advisor. My Lord."

Voldemort shook his head, just once, "No - I refuse to believe this - this is too scheming, for you, Severus."

Severus let a little of the vehemence show on his face, "My Lord - I happen to be a Slytherin - do you think I would let such a situation as Albus Dumbledore dying go, and not use it to my advantage? Yet here I am."

"You expect me to believe that you killed Albus Dumbledore, knowing that his will would state you were to become Headmaster of Hogwarts?" Voldemort murmured, searching Severus' eyes for any hint of untruth.

"I…helped him on his way. I did not outrightly murder him - that was a curse." Severus corrected, allowing the examination - and a few moments later, allowing the brush of cold fingers against his cheek, "You amuse me, Severus."

Severus raised one eyebrow, "My Lord?"

"You could have told me this in the first instance and I would not have threatened you with torture - or anything else remotely unpleasant - yet you leave it to me to drag the information from you - the knowledge that you helped to destroy my greatest enemy?" Voldemort half smiled, "You certainly are peculiar."

"I know that is how the Dark Lord likes to find things." Severus replied, "I would prefer that this information did not reach the Ministry, though - I would hate for my career to be cut short."

"You must tell me what it felt like, Severus - I always wanted to see his end - yet it seems you have bested me in that - did he plead?"

White hot anger, something that Severus hardly recognised such was its ferocity, shot through his nerves and straight to his brain. But he managed to swallow - "He was rather graceful - as always - as if he had been expecting it."

Voldemort seemed almost disappointed by this, "That is a shame - I had hoped he would show himself to be a coward at the end. You may go, Severus, I am satisfied. When I call for you again - which will be soon - we can talk more."

Severus bowed his head.

"And Severus - it strikes me that you are a very good liar. Make sure you have chosen the right person to spin your tale to." Voldemort called after him, "It would probably be wise to choose the side of the living - not a dead martyr."

* * *

><p>"Severus!" Albus was jolted awake from his portrait chair by the slamming of the door. He got to his feet when the windswept black figure crossed his new office and headed for the adjoining bedroom. "My boy? What did you tell him?" He had clearly managed to convince Voldemort, but at what cost?<p>

Severus stopped in his path, but did not turn to face Albus. Albus watched him for a long moment, "What did you give him?"

"Nothing." Severus answered, voice cold. "I gave him nothing."

Albus could detect emotions underlying those syllables, "Severus…" He murmured, "Speak to me. What did it cost you?"

Severus turned to look at him for the shortest of moments. "I am now your murderer."


End file.
